


Jack O'Neill's Very Strange Briefing

by Elivira



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Stargate SG-1
Genre: America's Boss, Crack, Gen, Humor, Secrets, Secrets Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:10:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9112150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elivira/pseuds/Elivira
Summary: Jack meets America in a bar, and sees him again in the SGC. And finally learns who, exactly he is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First, I would like to apologize for the horrid name...
> 
> Second, well there really isn't second...
> 
> Enjoy!

1.

America learns about the Stargate after the first Abydos mission, at the same time as the highest ranking government officials the USA has to offer, most of them don't have enough clearance to know what he is.

_‘Aliens_ ,’ American thinks, ‘ _cool_.’

2.

America can feel each and everyone of his citizens, can see through a thousand and more eyes, and feel with a thousand and more hands.

When someone steps to the gate he cannot feel them for those few moments that the person is in the gate before they snap back to solidity on a distant planet.

3.

The Stargate program is America's pride and joy, the next step to a future he's always dreamed of.

Japan would love the technology, but this is a secret America will never tell. (Until he does, because the Atlantis mission will contain people from all over the Earth. But that’s another story.)

America wants to use the Stargate to change the world.

There's a bar in downtown Colorado Springs, it's small but not too small, with the best burgers in the city.

On the weekends, it's filled with Cheyenne mountain people, gate teams huddled together in corner tables, analysts talking quietly towards the back of the room, and NORAD staff who have no idea what goes on on level 28, chatting happily at the bar.

America likes to sit among them, talking and smiling with people who are the best of the best. Sometimes he buys a drink for someone who needs it, or lends an ear to a person who just needs someone to listen. Mostly though, he just watches.

America likes to watch his people.

(In a non-creepy way of course.)

5.

America sits on the tall bar stool, chin resting on one hand and a whiskey in the other. It's 9 PM on a Saturday night in the bar is filling up, but America is ignoring most of the occupants, eyes flitting every now and then to a salt-and-pepper head sitting a couple of seats away.

He knows the man's name without having to think about it, knows who the man is, Colonel Jack O'Neill, has an ex-wife named Sara and a son who was killed when he was a kid. Jack likes fishing in a pond in Minnesota even though there's never been fish in that particular pond. Jack O'Neill who was the first of his citizens to step through a Stargate, who’s teammate and friend just died of radiation poisoning.

America adjusts his glasses and stands up.

6.

"Hey dude, ya mind if I sit here?" America asks, motioning to an empty barstool.

"It's a free country." Jack O'Neill answers, not looking up, instead, downing a what must be his fourth shot of bourbon.

"Thanks!" America says, holding out his hand to shake. "Alfred F Jones," he introduces himself with the name he's been using since England found him and said that "all civilized countries had a human name."

* * *

 

1.

Jack stares blearily at the kid standing beside him, because he can't be anything but a kid, hell anything over twenty one is a stretch.

The kid holds out a hand to shake.

"Jack O'Neill." He replies, because his mom always taught him to be polite to strangers.

"Cool." The kid, Jones, says. "Nice to meet ya Jack."

Jack turns away, because his politeness only goes so far and if this kid is looking for a friend he's going to be sorely disappointed.

Jack motions for the bartender to pour another shot.

"You know," Jones starts, "in my experience, drinking away your troubles never works in the long run."

Jack wants to snort, because this kid looks much too young to know anything about drinking away your troubles, but when he looks up there's a certain kind of wisdom in the kids eyes and he holds it back.

"Yeah,” Jack says in agreement and downs another shot, "but sometimes it's all you can do."

Because with every shot he takes, the less he thinks of Daniel, peeling skin, screams of pain, and bright lights as his teammate had disappeared.

Jones gets a faraway look in his eyes. "Yeah."

Jack gives a wry laugh.

Jones huffs, shakes his head, and smiles brightly.

"Hey bartender!" He shouts. "Can I get a quarter pounder with cheese fries?"

2.

They sit in silence for a while, Jones happily munching on his food and Jack nursing his drink. The kid finishes quickly and orders a shot of whiskey which he downs like a pro, but doesn't speak until he gets up to leave.

"You're doing good work Colonel O'Neill," Jones says, "don't let the losses getcha down." He smiled slightly, suddenly looking much older than Jack had originally thought.

"See you later." Jones says as he passes behind Jack on his way to the door. 

4.

Jack wakes up the next morning feeling the effects of last nights bar visit. He lays in bed for what must be a couple of minutes, but feels like hours, before forcing himself out of bed, into his uniform, and out the door.

He all but forgets about the strange kid from the bar, pushes the the encounter to the back of his mind and doesn't think about it again.

Two weeks later, he returns to the SGC from MK7–668 dragging a blubbering archaeologist (one in a long line of failures, because no one can ever replace Daniel) behind him, Carter and Teal'c on either side.

He looks up to the viewing room and a familiar blond haired blue-eyed kid grins back at him. Later, after the debrief he pulls General Hammond aside and asks, "Sir, who's the kid? "

The general looks confused for a moment before understanding dawns on his face.

"Oh, you mean Jones," Hammond says, "he's the president's," Hammond pauses as if looking for the right word, "assistant." He finally says. "He's here to see how we're running things."

"Oh." Jack says, and turns to leave before he accuses the general of lying to him.

5.

The next time Jack sees the kid is only a couple of days later. He's in the kitchen making breakfast in an uncharacteristic act of domesticity. The pan crackles happily when he breaks the egg into the hot oil beside the bacon and his toast pops up across the counter. His phone rings shrilly from its place on the wall and he grabs it off the hook before the third ring, spiral cord swinging merrily.

"O'Neill."

"Colonel O'Neill, this is General Hammond's assistant. I'm calling to tell you that you've been called in today for a meeting.”

"What time?" Jack sighs, seeing his day off crumbling before his eyes.

"13:00, sir."

"I'll be there." Jack says before hanging up. He glances at the clock, it's eleven now, so he has time to finish eating before he needs to drive into the base

The meeting room is mostly empty when he gets there, Hammond sitting impatiently at the table.

"Good morning sir." Jack says before pulling out a chair to sit. "I'm not that early am I?"

"No, we're just waiting for one other person." Hammond says.

Half hour later they're still waiting. Hammond's foot is happening at the ground and away it only does when he's very impatient and Jack has started to count the ceiling tiles. So far he's got two hundred three.

The door bursts open in a flurry of movement, and a blond head practically falls into the room.

"Sorry dude," the person says to Hammond, "I know I'm late but Canada was like over last night and..." He trails off, noticing Jack for the first time.

Jack stares. Canada?

_This_ is the third person of the meeting? The kid from the bar.

"Hey!" The kid, Jones, greets Jack happily.

"Mr. Jones," Hammond starts, voice chastising, "I have much better things to do than wait for you to grace us with your presence."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jones rolls his eyes and Jack has never seen anyone treat a general with, it's not disrespect, he can tell that Jones respects Hammond, but more like with the casual indifference that one extends towards someone lower to them in the military totally poll.

Hammond sighs longsufferingly. "Well let's get this meeting started, I've got another meeting in," he glances at his wrist watch, "twenty minutes."

Jones brightens, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. "I can cover the briefing," he volunteers, "if you need to go."

Hammond huffs. "I've heard stories about how you briefed the president."

Jones laughs. "Touché." And Jack wonders what this kid could've possibly known that the president hadn't.

Hammond ignores him and turns to Jack. "We are about to tell let you in on a secret only handful of people –"

"Thirteen!" Jones interrupts.

"That only thirteen people," Hammond corrects himself, "in the United States are aware of."

"Yeah," Jones agrees "we're like even more classified than the Stargate program." He looks a little bit proud of himself for some reason.

_'We?'_ Jack wonders, an organization more secret than the SGC?

"Jack," Hammond says, "they are the world's greatest secret."

Jones rolls eyes and mutters something under his breath that sounds something like "drama kings all of them."

"I'm America." Jones says brightly, holding his hand for Jack to shake. "Nice to meet ya."

"Huh?"

"Every country has an embodiment, a physical manifestation in the form of human. They represent everything about of a country, the good the bad, all the people that consider themselves part of it." Hammond explains.

Jack blinks confusedly. Jones nods happily. Hammond looks expectantly.

There's a long silence.

"Uh," Jones (America?) starts, "England once explained it to me like this, I'm the ship, people are  the sailors, as the sailors change so does the ship."

"Huh." Jack says intelligently.

"Well, England made it sound better." Jones says defensively.

"You're... America?"

"Yes.” Jones says. "I am the personification of United States of America."

And there's something in his face that makes Jack believe it. Kind of an idea of age and experience and Jack looks at him and does not see a kid. He sees the way Jones holds himself, ready and on guard like a soldier. For the first time, Jack notices the service weapon at Jones' hip, and the callouses on his hands. He looks at the WWII to bomber jacket he's wearing and can easily picture the kid, man, in front of him, flying a plane into a war zone.

Jack notices his accent is unplaceable, a hint of a Southern twang with Midwestern vowels and Minnesota consonants. He wonders if he's just now noticing things that have been there the whole time, or if Jones, no, _America_ , has just stopped pretending to be something he's not.

Hammond looks at Jack knowingly.

"Why are you briefing me on this?" Jack asks. Because in a way it makes sense, and after alien snakes and little gray men it's not really that strange.

"Why do you think?" Hammond asks.

Jack knows why, because even Hammond won’t say it out right, it's an unspoken fact that when he steps down, Jack will take his place.

There's a moment of silence as it sinks in.

"Well I've got a meeting to go to." Hammond says, standing up, and is out the door as soon as he has his chair pushed in.

America stands up to. "Yeah me too, the boss is expecting me at the Oval Office in," he glances at his watch, "twelve hours, and there's a jet waiting for me at the airport."

"Boss?" Jack asks.

"Yup,” America says popping the 'p', "Mr. President doesn't like to be kept waiting." He grins, heading for the door before sobering up to turn around and look Jack in the eye.

"He's not dead you know." He says.

"What?" Jack asks.

"Daniel." America clarifies. "He's not dead. I can still feel him," he taps his chest, "here."

He gives Jack one last smile before turning around to leave.

"See around Col. O'Neill." Jack hears from the hall, and he's left to think about all of the bombshells that have just been unceremoniously dumped on his head.  


**Last.**

Jack lays in bed that night and thinks of this country. He thinks of the version that he has always believed in, and the new one, that he can see now.

Both of them seem well worth fighting for.


End file.
